Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer ye."
The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished
and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until the
arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted escort'
for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one he had
hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him the
opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his
tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out of
reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his
trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness.
Harkless wondered if his costume were not an injustice to his companion,
but he did not regret it; he would wear his best court suit, his laces and
velvets, for deference to that lady. It was a painful thing to remember
his dusty rustiness of the night before, the awful Carlow cut of his coat,
and his formless black cravat; the same felt hat he wore again to-night,
perforce, but it was brushed--brushed almost to holes in spots, and
somehow he had added a touch of shape to it. His dress-coat was an
antique; fashions had changed, no doubt; he did not know; possibly she
would recognize its vintage--but it was a dress-coat.
Lige walked along talking; Harkless answering "Yes" and "No" at random.
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